Jan Carson: "I'm also absolutely convinced that you can't write well if you're not reading constantly. You need ideas and interesting sentences with which to fuel your creativity."
Yes, social media can be fantastic. The story goes like this: a few years ago, while writing a long chapter about Northern Ireland, and wanting to set it in contemporary Belfast, I read a book called The Firestarters by Jan Carson (in the Spanish version), winner of the 2019 European Union Prize for Literature. The novel tells the story of a young doctor who had an encounter with a mermaid. From their relationship, they had a daughter.
The mermaid left, leaving him to care for the child. Meanwhile, in 2018, a wave of fires spreads through the city—gigantic bonfires created by young people, almost children—which, during the summer, once again shake a country that has barely twenty years of peace. I finished the book, thoroughly satisfied with evocative imagery and pleased with Carson's creative freedom.
In 2025, Jan Carson will attend the FIL (Guadalajara International Book Fair), where she will participate in two panel discussions. Without much expectation, I messaged her through my newly installed Instagram account and told her that a significant part of my novel, Honduras bajo nieve (recently released in November 2025 in Guadalajara, México), takes place in Belfast, and that I was interested in interviewing her and later meeting up with her, even if just for a coffee. She replied almost immediately in more or less this words: Go ahead, send me your questions.
As I write this, she is in the United States, working on her novel Few and far between, which will be released in early 2026. She wrote back that she got up early to answer the questions and that she would have liked to go into more detail. From the photos she posts on her Instagram account, I imagined her behind her computer, answering these questions while gazing out her window at the unmistakable colors of autumn. I'm new to Instagram, but I have no doubt that autumn is the favorite season for users of this network. As I opened my email, day was just breaking, and behind my window, a row of blackbirds perched on the power lines. Much of the sky still held that cobalt blue of cold mornings, but behind the church steeple that stands in the middle of the town where I live, there was a band of orange, apricot-colored sky.
Where do you live?
East
Belfast, Northern Ireland but I was born in Ballymena, a provincial
market town about 30 miles north of Belfast.
Can you briefly tell me about your family, educational, cultural, and political background?
I
was born into a fundamentalist, evangelical Protestant family in a
very Protestant town about half way through the Northern Irish
conflict (1980). The school system in Northern Ireland is segregated,
(90% of schools still are) and so I was sent to an all girls
Protestant grammar school where I learnt no Irish language, no Irish
history or mythology and didn’t really meet a Catholic until I went
to university in Belfast at 18 to study literature. My parents were
apolitical. They’re strict religious beliefs meant that they kept
themselves separate from worldly pursuits such as politics and did
not vote or involve themselves in any of the political aspects of the
conflict. They were also very wary of art. What I watched on
television was very strictly supervised. We were not allowed to go to
dances or the cinema but I was allowed to go to the library every
week. Reading was seen to be an educational pursuit. And this is
where I fell in love with books first, then all sorts of other
different art forms.
What are you currently working on (in your writing, or in another area you would like to tell us about)?
I’m
working on a novel about generational trauma which moves backwards
through time tracing how unresolved trauma keeps impacting the next
generation. I’m also adapting an Agatha Christie short story for
BBC Radio 4.
How did you discover your literary vocation?
No
big epiphany really. I’ve always been a voracious reader and I
worked in arts programming. At a certain point I realised that the
kind of book I wanted to read, (ie. socio-political magical realism),
didn’t exist within the Northern Irish context and so I decided to
have a go at writing a short story in this form. I couldn’t believe
how much I enjoyed working on that first story and so I kept writing.
That was twenty years ago. I’ve published nine books and dozens of
short stories since.
Most
of our readers come from Latin America are unfamiliar with the
Northern Irish conflict. The peace agreements were signed in 1998,
after a war that lasted several decades.
How do you remember the
tension of the conflict?
In
all honesty, I don’t have any awful stories about the Troubles and
I’m really grateful for this. The Northern Irish Poet, John Hewitt
has a famous poem called The Coasters, (I have a short story written
in homage to this poem in my last collection, Quickly, While They
Still Have Horses). It talks about the group of middle class
Protestants who coasted through the conflict, largely untouched by
the violence and my family, partially because of their separatist
political views, definitely fell into this category. As an adult,
I’ve met friends who were born in the same era who had a completely
different experience of the Troubles because of where they grew up
and I now understand how fortunate and sheltered my childhood was.
Saying this, I do recall, the ever-present army presence on the
streets, several bomb scares where I was rushed out of buildings as a
child and the constant feeling of tension everywhere. I also grew up
with the deep and lasting impact of a society very much segregated
along sectarian lines. As mentioned above, the school system meant I
had no significant encounters with Catholics until I was an adult and
have huge gaps in my understanding of Irish politics, history and
culture. The conflict in Northern Ireland impacted everyone who lived
there and I am probably in the minority as someone who did not lose a
relative or close friend or suffer any physical harm.
You were a young adult when the peace agreements were signed. How did you experience this new process?
I didn’t actually know the Good Friday Agreement was happening. I was old enough to vote on the referendum but it wasn’t mentioned in our school and my parents certainly didn’t encourage me to take any interest in it. I did move up to Belfast to begin university just a few months after the peace treaty was signed and I can say that it was a truly amazing time to be taking my first steps as an adult in a city which was, for the first time in decades, hopeful and beginning to flourish. It felt fragile but incredibly exciting to see bands returning to play in the music venues and arts festivals starting and tourists beginning to visit. It was an exciting time to be in Belfast.
"In some ways, the artists provided a model for how a peaceful Northern Ireland could look"
While researching Northern Ireland, I interviewed a woman of your generation who told me that, even today, it is difficult for Catholics and Protestants to live together. Please correct me if I am wrong. In your case, as a well-known writer, how are you received in the country?
Structurally
a lot of Northern Ireland’s issues have yet to be resolved. The
Good Friday Agreement ushered in some semblance of peace; a reduction
in the ongoing violence. But there are more peace walls dividing
Catholic and Protestant areas in Belfast nowadays than there were in
1998 and the schools have yet to be integrated and much needs to be
done about the mental health crisis left in the wake of the conflict.
Northern Ireland is still a very troubled place, particularly if
you’re from a working class background where the housing is still
largely segregated and, as this woman says, there’s a lot of
tension between the two communities. I will say that the arts sector,
even at the height of the conflict, has always exemplified
integration, mutual understanding and the ability to work and live
together regardless of background or political outlook. In some ways,
the artists provided a model for how a peaceful Northern Ireland
could look and I can honestly say that my work has been accepted and
even championed by readers and colleagues from all sorts of different
backgrounds both in the North and the island as a whole. This is one
of my favourite aspects of being an Irish writer. The community is
second to none.
What is your writing routine like?
When
I’m not on the road, which is rare these days, I write for around
two hours each morning in a coffee shop close to my house. The walk
there is a good opportunity to clear my head and begin to focus on
the project I’m working on. I prefer to write outside the house as
it instils in me a sense that I am heading to work and I’m much
less likely to be distracted by jobs to do around the house. I also
like the background hum of people talking around me and sometimes
watch people when I’m writing so I can see how they move and
interact with each other. On good days I sometimes get a second
session in a different coffee shop slotted into my afternoon. For the
last few years I’ve spent at least half of my year travelling for
work. I struggle to write new material when travelling but try to
bring a work in progress with me as I can edit when I’m on the
road.
I think about young aspiring writers, who are currently facing the world of social media, a space where books tend to disappear, as do conversations and transmission. What advice would you give these aspiring young writers to ensure rigor in their work?
I hesitate to give any advice to
emerging writers because so much of writing is finding out what works
for you and casting off all the unhelpful advice other writers have
tried to thrust upon you. For me, the main things have been to keep
focused on the fact that writing is not some other-worldly calling.
It’s my job. I love to write but it’s also the means by which I
pay the bills and this pragmatic approach helps me to keep focused
and turn up at the desk every day even when I’m not feeling
particularly inspired. I’m also absolutely convinced that you can’t
write well if you’re not reading constantly. You need ideas and
interesting sentences with which to fuel your creativity. Sometimes
you can find this online but more and more I’ve found myself
turning to older texts and well-established writers for beautifully
formed sentences and plots which are both engaging and adamant about
the message they’re trying to get across and finely drawn
characters and language that walks the fine line between meaning and
lyricality. It’s not hard to keep your focus on literature if
you’re reading something as meaty and marvellous and Hilary Mantel.
You are familiar with a huge and powerful market, the English-speaking world. Where do you see the future of books and literature in general? Is there room for authors and voices that do not seek to comply with the dictates of major trends? Could we see a new Joyce in the 21st century?
I sincerely hope we don’t see another Joyce in the 21st century. I’m not all that interested in monolithic artists who are given universal God-like status and reverence. The publishing world has a dreadful habit of raising up authors and making deities of them and it’s often nothing to do with quality of work or innovation, so much as how many books they can shift. Yes, I have respect for Joyce as an innovator and an influential voice in literature but as Irish writers we’re often forced to live under his long shadow and I’ve always been much more interested in what’s happening in the margins of art. In the UK and Ireland we’ve seen a rise in the number of small presses publishing truly brilliant, challenging and meaningful work and I’d love to see more avenues like this opening up for writers who are more interested in saying what needs to be said and remaining artistically curious than in winning big prizes or becoming part of the accepted canon.
And finally, who are your favorite authors?
Dead - Flannery O’Connor, Carson McCullers, Shirley Jackson, Agatha Christie, Hilary Mantel. Not Dead – George Saunders, Samanta Schweblin, Kevin Barry, Catherine Lacey.
Jan Carson at the FIL (Guadalajara)
Wednesdey, December 03 at 19h00
Festival de las Letras Europeas, Territorio de afectos, silencios y encuentros
Participan: Jan Carson, Sofia Chanfreu y Donatella Di Pietrantonio
Thursday, December 04, at 19hoo
Encuentro Internacional de Cuentistas
Participan: Huda Al Naemi, Jan Carson, Andrés Montero y Laksmi Pamuntjak
For more details :
https://www.fil.com.mx/
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